From rrusnak@Lconn.com Sat Apr 05 13:10:07 1997 Subject: NEW! Elixir II (1/3) Replay From: Rebecca Rusnak -------- Elixir II (1/3) Replay by Rebecca Rusnak Well, here it is, Part 2 of my trilogy. In case anybody new is reading this, Part 1 is called "Retreat" and if anybody missed it the first time around, let me know and I can e-mail it to you. Send all and any feedback to rrusnak@Lconn.com DISCLAIMER: (all in unison now) Mulder, Scully, etc., do not belong to me, and unfortunately it looks like they never will. They do belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and the Fox Broadcasting Co. (Hey guys, didn't your moms ever teach you to share?) SUMMARY: While attempting to discover what has infected Scully, an old "friend" re-appears. RATING: PG-13 CLASSIFICATION: Call it an X-File, if you will. This story is Part 2 of a trilogy, and while I would recommend reading Part 1, it is not completely necessary. All you need to know is that while on an undercover assignment Scully was drugged, and now it looks like that drug is extraterrestrial in origin. WARNING!: While I make no claims to be able to work miracles, there is a "resurrection" in this story of an old character. I may be way out of line here, but it's something I've always wanted to do. Sometimes it just seems a shame that the best characters on The X-Files are doomed to live for only one season, at best. This is my attempt at rectifying one such shameful mistake. Replay by Rebecca Rusnak J. Edgar Hoover Building Jan. 28, 1997 "Agent Scully, that substance in your blood, whatever it is, it's alien." Dana Scully felt as if her death sentence had just been pronounced. Her heart skipped a beat and a loud roaring began in her ears. Her vision began to dim as the whole world shrunk to the size of a small pinprick of light. Then she suddenly felt herself being shaken. "Scully! Wake up!" Mulder's voice, coming to her from miles away. "Scully, don't you dare turn all girlie on me and faint." That did the trick. Scully blinked rapidly, bringing the world back into focus. She saw Mulder standing over her with his hands on her shoulders. She took a deep breath and said, "Don't you *ever* call me girlie' again." Their relieved laughter helped break the tension in the room, but only momentarily. Mulder let go of her shoulders, and she felt a pang of regret, wishing he would still hold her, then ruthlessly tamped it down. It wouldn't do to start thinking like that again... Although he'd relinquished his hold, Mulder continued to stand close beside her. "What do you mean, it's alien?" It was the question Scully was afraid to ask. Pendrell looked down at his feet. The simple gesture fueled Scully's fear. In all the time she had been bringing strange things to Pendrell she had never known him to be nervous or afraid. Curious and eager, yes, but never worried. "Agent Pendrell, what did you find?" She kept her voice even but her eyes stared at him intensely. The young man raised his gaze to hers. For a moment all his hopeless love for her was written across his face, then he swallowed visibly, and regained his composure. "Actually, it's a mixture of known organic compounds, and...and something else. It appears to be similar to the RNA of a virus, but if it is, it comes from no virus I've ever seen. I've exhausted all tests I can run, and I still can't identify it." "Have you shown it to anyone else?" asked Mulder. "No, I didn't think you would want me to," Pendrell replied, without taking his eyes off Scully. "Good. Keep it that way." Now Pendrell looked at Mulder, then he nodded. "I guess I'll head back to the lab," he said. "I'll let you know if I find anything new," he offered as he left. After he was gone the office was silent. Scully let her rigid posture relax, just a little. She didn't have to pretend in front of Mulder. Well, not much. "Scully--" She held up a hand. "Mulder, don't." He gave her a mock wounded look. "I was only going to say that it's a good thing the Capitals are playing the Sabres tonight." This inane remark was so unexpected she could only stare. Mulder gave her an innocent shrug. "Seeing as how we're going back to Buffalo." "Why?" She was instantly suspicious. *Now* what was Mulder up to? "Because all of Retreat's records were confiscated by the Regional FBI Office in Buffalo." Mulder gave her a long look, his eyes dark. "Scully, Charlie Courteney had to get that substance somewhere. Probably we'll find some record of purchase among Retreat's papers." She raised an eyebrow. "Mulder, you don't really believe that drug is half extraterrestrial, do you?" He gave her a lopsided smile. "I hope not." But the excited light in his eyes said otherwise. Which was not entirely reassuring to Scully. FBI Regional Office, Buffalo Jan. 28, 1997 7:52 p.m. Sitting amid a stack of file folders, Scully sighed. She longed to grab the pile of papers in front of her and hurl them across the office. Envisioning Mulder's reaction to such an action made her smile slightly, and she looked up at him. He was slouched at a desk across from her, reading glasses perched on his nose, frowning at the contents of the file he was reading. She watched him for a while, taking a guilty pleasure in staring at him, unnoticed. As she watched, Mulder's frown deepened, and he suddenly sat up straight. "Hey, Scully." He looked up suddenly, and she quickly lowered her gaze, unable to hide the smile that curved her lips. Mulder gave her a puzzled look. "What's so funny?" he asked, then raised a hand to his cheek. "Any paper clips that I should be aware of?" he asked. Scully's smile grew. "No," she confessed. "Good. Cause I found something." Instantly the professional mask was back, wiping the smile from her face. "What did you find?" Mulder got up and walked over to her, carrying the file with him. He laid it on the desk and pointed. "Here. An unnamed purchase of unnamed goods, from a man called only Arntzen, and this Alexandria address." Scully looked up at him. "Krycek." Mulder nodded. "Looks like Defense Department secrets wasn't the only thing he was selling." Yet... "Wait a minute, Mulder. You're making an awful big leap here." "It makes sense, Scully. We know Krycek's been on the run from the Consortium for a while now. He's probably been forced to sell whatever he can just to survive." No, she thought. Krycek had sold that long ago, if he'd ever had one to begin with. "But, Mulder, where did he get it?" Seeing a name on a page might be enough for Mulder, but not for Scully. She needed more tangible proof. "I don't know. But I think we should go back to Washington," Mulder answered. Scully looked down. Sometimes the way Mulder's mind worked was too much. She just had to be patient and wait for him to explain, in his own time, as he always did. Usually she could pry some explanations from him with the right questions, but she was too tired to try right now. Some unknown substance had been in her body, and maybe still was. Let Mulder handle the investigative aspects of this case; she just wanted to find out the unknown. "Scully? Ready to go?" She sighed and gave in. "Why are we going back to DC?" "I think the answers are there. You should try to dig up anything you can on this substance, or any new miracle' drugs out there." "What are you going to do?" The sixty-four thousand dollar question. "I'm going to run down some other leads," Mulder answered vaguely. Same story, different day. Scully stood up slowly and followed her partner out of the office. Apt. 38E Alexandria, Virginia Jan. 29 12:45 a.m. Footsteps suddenly sounded in the hall and Mulder tensed. At last! In a few seconds Krycek would walk through that door. Mulder made a sudden decision. He would give Krycek enough time to answer his questions, and then he would kill him. For his father, for Melissa, for Scully, for Skinner, for himself. Scully would not be here to stop him this time. The footsteps slowed before the door. Mulder went to stand near the back of the room, the better to hide in the shadows. Nothing he could do about the moonlight coming through the window, but Krycek wouldn't see him until it was too late. By the time he realized his lights didn't work he would be on the floor with a gun in his face. The footsteps stopped. Mulder could see the two dark shapes of feet blocking the light coming under the door. Krycek stood outside, and Mulder began to sweat. Had he given himself away somehow? Did Krycek know who waited for him in his apartment? The doorknob turned, and the door swung open just enough to let a pencil-thin ray of light into the room. Mulder tightened his grip on the gun and soundlessly moved forward. The seconds ticked by agonizingly. The whole world narrowed down to this moment in time. Nothing else mattered. Then the voice spoke from behind the door. "Leave this case alone, Agent Mulder." A pause. "The military will not tolerate an FBI investigation." A deep, rough voice. Mulder sucked in his breath. That voice. Those words. He'd heard them all before. The door pushed open a few inches more. "I can be of help to you. I've had a certain interest in your work." That voice! But it couldn't be... "Let's just say I'm in a position to know quite a lot of things." The door swung open all the way then and Mulder brought his gun up, trying desperately to control his shaking hands. The figure in the doorway stepped into the room. "Things about our government." The light from the hall threw the man into silhouette, making it difficult to see his face. But Mulder knew--he knew with chilling certainty who stood here before him. He began to shake again helplessly. "You! You're dead!" The man chuckled softly. "I've heard that one before, Agent Mulder." He stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him. For a moment they were enveloped in darkness, then Mulder's eyes re-adjusted to the dim light coming from the window. Oh, God, it was him! That dark hair, frosted with gray at the temples. The dark suit, nondescript government issue. The deeply lined expressionless face. But he was dead! Mulder gripped the gun firmly and licked his lips nervously. "Who are you?" Unconsciously he echoed his half of the script being replayed here tonight. "You know who I am, Mr. Mulder. I would suggest you put that gun away so we can talk. I haven't much time." It sounded like him. It looked like him. It even talked like him. But it just couldn't be! Not for the first time in his career, Mulder wondered if he was losing his mind. "Deep Throat is dead! So cut the crap. Who are you?" "I'm surprised at you, Mr. Mulder. When did you stop believing?" The casual tone of voice belied the hurtful words. Mulder gasped, stricken. Of course he still believed! He was here, wasn't he? He still believed in a lot of things. But to believe that a man had come back from the dead and was talking to him, even "Spooky" Mulder had a hard time believing *that*. "All right," he said hoarsely. "If you are who you say you are, prove it." The man who might or might not be Deep Throat sighed. "I thought it might come to this. My proof lies in the information I can give you about the drug you search for." Mulder's finger curled around the trigger of his gun. This man knew! Whoever he was, he knew about what had been inside Scully. He opened his mouth to demand some answers when the man spoke again. "Do you remember what I told you that day in the aquarium? About sharks?" Mulder's knees went weak. It *was* him! It couldn't be, but it was. He lowered the gun and finally accepted the truth. "If a shark stops swimming it will die." Deep Throat smiled. "It's good to see you haven't stopped swimming, Mr. Mulder." Reflecting Pool January 29 2:10 a.m. Mulder popped another sunflower seed in his mouth and shifted on the cold bench. The January wind seemed to cut right through him and he huddled a little deeper into his coat. Despite the cold, he couldn't help being excited. After nearly three years, he was meeting with his first informant again. Even with all the aid he had received over the years, all the informants come and gone, he still missed his original contact. Deep Throat. The man had seemed amused to hear the name Mulder had given him, although apparently not enough to reveal his real name. He had seemed worried, too; more paranoid than he had ever been before. "We can't stay here," he'd said in Krycek's apartment. Mulder had begun to speak but Deep Throat had waved off his protest. "He won't be coming back here, Mr. Mulder. He has bigger fish to fry." He'd arranged this meeting, then left. Mulder shivered again in the cold and yawned. He was about to get up and start pacing when he heard the footsteps. A trenchcoated figure walked up to the bench and gazed out over the pool. "This brings back memories," he said. "Feeling nostalgic?" Mulder asked. Deep Throat turned his head sharply. For some reason the question had angered him. "If you think I enjoy having to do this again, taking all these risks--" Mulder sprang to his feet. "Then why are you doing it?" he shot back. His informant stared at him for a moment, then smiled, the anger gone. "Still swimming," he said softly, almost to himself. He turned to stare back out over the water. They were silent for a while, until Mulder could no longer contain his curiosity. "You were dead. How did you...?" Deep Throat sighed heavily. "No, I was not *dead,* despite how it looked. With modern drugs, Mr. Mulder, you can make the human body do almost anything. Including lowering functioning until it appears you have a dead body on your hands. Such drugs, carefully hidden in a capsule designed to release upon impact, a capsule fired from a gun...Well, you saw how it happened." "It was them, wasn't it? They planned it all, didn't they? They knew they had a leak and they had to flush you out." Mulder glanced at the older man, who nodded confirmation. "They used me, to get to you. And you knew what they were doing, you knew what would happen to you." "I-uh, I had an idea of what would happen, yes. Certainly I did not think I would ever be standing here talking to you again." "But you *knew,*" Mulder insisted in amazement. "What happens to one person is inconsequential, Mr. Mulder. It's the larger picture you have to keep in mind." Mulder's head spun with a thousand questions, a thousand theories. He sorted through them rapidly and picked the easiest. "I am part of the larger picture." Deep Throat nodded again. "You, and your work." "But why?" The older man turned to face him. "When I first began helping you, I did so out of guilt, trying to atone for all the things I had done in the past. But I found something happening. I began to believe in your work. I began to believe in *you*." "And that's why you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me?" "The big picture, Mr. Mulder. If I'm dead, nothing happens to them. Life goes on. If you're dead, nothing happens to them. Life goes on. But with one important exception. If you die, so does the best, and maybe only, chance of exposing them, of exposing the truth." "There was a time when you didn't want the truth exposed," Mulder said. He could vividly remember the bitter realization that he had been lied to, by the very man he had just thanked for all his help. "Yes, yes. But things have changed. You know things now you didn't then. You've seen them yourself." "But what haven't I seen? What else is out there, what other lies and half-truths? What else is waiting to be discovered?" Mulder began to gesture angrily. "Are you going to tell me these things, or do I have to find them out myself, and nearly get killed in the process? Did you come back just so you can drop little clues around, knowing I'll go running off to wherever you point? Is that why you're here?" Deep Throat watched this tirade calmly, and Mulder suddenly stopped, feeling foolish. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Okay, you obviously have something to tell me. What is it? How high should I jump this time?" He made no effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "I told you back in the apartment, I have information about the drug you're seeking." Deep Throat's words sliced through Mulder's remaining anger with the force of a blow. "What is it? What's in that drug? What do you know about it?" He was suddenly breathless, unable to speak. Deep Throat gestured toward the bench, and Mulder went over and sat down. The older man sat heavily next to him. He looked down at his hands pressed together in his lap for a time. Mulder waited anxiously. He knew from past experience the man would speak only when ready. "You know about the alien hybrid experiments already." He paused, and Mulder's mind flashed back to a room in a storage facility. The first time he'd learned about the hybrids, those wonderful, awful creatures that figured so prominently in his and Scully's lives. Nothing good had ever followed sighting those creatures, and he shuddered, remembering a boxcar in the desert, and fire... "In 1991, just in time for the Gulf War, a breakthrough was achieved on the extraterrestrial viruses. Several of our scientists found a way to extract specific strands of RNA from an alien virus and combine them with organic compounds to make a highly potent drug. Taken orally the drug produced extreme lassitude, dizziness and lowered awareness of environment. A person given the drug was very susceptible to suggestion, and would do anything suggested, even actions hypnosis could not induce. The government found this new drug to be a highly effective interrogation tool. Captured prisoners of war could be questioned and made to betray themselves and their country, all by drinking a glass of water laced with the drug. "The drug was used successfully in the Gulf War, on captured Iraqi soldiers. After the war, with no legitimate test subjects, the government began experimenting on innocent civilians. In several states, the drug was substituted for the flu vaccine, and subjects were closely monitored." "Why?" Mulder asked. "If they already knew what the drug did, why risk alerting the public?" "Because," Deep Throat replied, "they were interested in side effects. Prisoners of war go back to their own country eventually, and are hard to track. Ordinary citizens, on the other hand..." "What did they find?" Mulder asked, afraid of the answer. Georgetown University Library 4:16 a.m. Scully pulled off her reading glasses and pressed her fingertips into her eyes. Going through paperwork for hours always gave her a headache, and tonight was no exception. Added to that was the lack of sleep, and the personal worries this case was giving her. She felt like she belonged in one of those aspirin commercials, only instead of Excedrin, her headache was screaming She'd come directly to the university library from Dulles Airport. Mulder had still been vague about his destination, but Scully had had a feeling that Alex Krycek was going to be paid a visit. The address in Retreat's files had been his last-known place of residence, and although she doubted he still lived there, she supposed it was worth a try. She'd wondered briefly how Krycek would avoid being killed by Mulder *this* time, then had forgotten about it. The library was closing when she had arrived, but her FBI badge and a few connections at the university had guaranteed she would have access to the library overnight. Campus security was informed of her presence, and she was left to her research. Scully sighed. So far, she had turned up nothing. No medical journal, no university publication, and certainly no government document made any mention of a newly discovered drug with the properties she was looking for. She wasn't surprised, but it was frustrating nonetheless. A soft sound in the gloom of the library made her head snap up. For hours the only sounds in the deserted library had been made by her, and her heart began to beat faster. She listened carefully, straining to hear something. The seconds ticked by and she had decided she was mistaken when she heard it again. Instantly alert, she jumped to her feet, reaching for her gun. "Hello? Is anybody there?" Her voice seemed to echo in the quiet, mocking her. The sound came again and Scully backed away from her study carrel and flattened herself against the wall, eyes scanning the library. Her fear began to mount. Anybody could be creeping through the aisles between bookshelves, slowly coming closer.. When her cell phone rang she nearly screamed. Pure reflex took over and she whirled on the balls of her feet, her gun aimed at the study carrel she'd just vacated. The phone rang again and she relaxed, feeling slightly foolish. She put the gun back on the desk, then reached into the pocket of her coat. "Scully." "Scully, it's me. Where are you?" Her lips twitched in a rueful smile. If she had a dollar for every time she heard that, she could have retired years ago. "I'm at Georgetown's library. Where are you?" "Why are you at the library?" "Because, Mulder, you told me to see what I could find out about the drug." "Did you find anything?" She sighed again, and absently rubbed the back of her neck. "No. What about you?" "Yeah, but I don't want to talk about it over the phone," he said. "Listen, can you be at the airport in an hour?" "The airport? Why?" But she knew why. He'd found out something, and in typical Mulder fashion was off and running after it. At least this time she got to come along. "Where are we going?" "Dayton, Ohio. Our flight leaves at 5:30, Scully. I'll meet you at the gate." "Mulder, what's in Dayton, Ohio?" "Wright Patterson Air Force Base." It was all he would say. End Part (1/3) of Replay From rrusnak@Lconn.com Sat Apr 05 13:10:27 1997 Subject: NEW! Elixir II (2/3) Replay From: Rebecca Rusnak -------- Part 2 of Replay by Rebecca Rusnak See disclaimers, etc. in Part 1 Dulles Airport 5:50 a.m. "Mulder, will you stop pacing? It's not going to make the plane come any earlier." Scully tried to speak lightly, but their recent topic of conversation made it hard. Their flight was postponed due to bad weather in Kentucky, which was just as well. Despite her haste, Scully had been late getting to the airport and would have missed the plane if it had been on time. Now Mulder was pacing back and forth, occasionally throwing impatient looks out the window. Unshaven, in a rumpled suit, hair standing up where he'd repeatedly run his fingers through it, he still was incredibly attractive. He stopped pacing when he saw her staring at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" She forced herself back to the business at hand. "You're saying that this Deep Throat--that he's alive?" "I know how it sounds, but it was him, Scully." She shook her head. "He was dead, Mulder. I checked him myself. I held him on that bridge when he died." "I know, Scully. But he was here tonight. I am not making this up. We talked and he told me things. Scully, I know what you saw, but I also know what I saw." His eyes pleaded with her to believe. She felt herself hesitating. Normally when she questioned Mulder's beliefs he put up a defensive stance, obstinately refusing to listen to her logic. Yet here he was now, almost desperate for her to believe him. "All right, Mulder. What did he tell you? Is he the reason we're flying to some Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio?" Mulder glanced around the gate area, then sat beside her. "Charlie Courteney got his drug from Krycek. We knew that. Krycek was stealing it from the government. We had guessed that. But what we didn't know was that what Krycek was selling was only a replication of the original drug." Scully was confused. "What do you mean? The lab results clearly showed an alien compound in that drug. If Krycek wasn't selling the real thing, then explain that strange substance." "Listen to me, Scully. What Krycek--and who knows how many others--was selling was a drug created in a government lab. Part of it is organic compounds, the ones Pendrell found. But the key to the drug is an alien virus, or the RNA, actually. "And the last store of that alien virus is being kept at Wright Patterson Air Force Base." "But why are we going there? Surely you're not planning to break into this military base and steal the RNA specimen?" Mulder's expression didn't change, but the rising excitement in his eyes told her that he was planning to do exactly that. She was torn between exasperation at his stubborn tenacity and admiration at his optimistic persistence. The exasperation won. "Mulder, you can't just walk into a military base and steal their secrets. How on earth are you--" Mulder interrupted her. "Not me." He was smiling. "You're going to do it." Scully's mouth dropped open. "Me? You've got to be kidding." How dare he drag her along on what was undoubtedly a wild goose chase, then make her do all the dirty work? Well, she supposed, she ought to just be glad he hadn't ditched her this time. "Don't worry, Scully. We'll cover for you," Mulder said. Her eyes narrowed. "We?" "We're meeting Deep Throat in Dayton." She sighed and Mulder poked her playfully. "Come on, Scully. It'll be just like old times again." Which was exactly what she was afraid of, she realized gloomily. Their flight was called then and Scully looked up in surprise. Sure enough, the plane was sitting at the gate and the last arriving passengers were headed down the terminal. "You see?" Scully said. "I told you the plane would come if you stopped pacing." She kept her voice light to hide her dread at the thought of getting on the plane. "Hey, Scully, did you know that Dayton is the birthplace of aviation?" Mulder asked as they got on the plane and settled in their seats. "I thought that was Kitty Hawk," she said. "That's where the first flight occurred. But Wilbur and Orville Wright lived and worked in Dayton. That's where they did all their research. They only chose Kitty Hawk because it was the perfect location for their flight." Mulder rambled on about the Wright brothers as the plane taxied onto the runway. He kept talking during take-off and Scully concentrated on his voice, trying to ignore the whining of the engines. She knew Mulder was talking on purpose, to try and take her mind off the airplane, and she resented his help as much as she needed it. Once they had leveled off Scully relaxed. She released her death-grip on the armrests and put her hands in her lap. She turned to Mulder, who was apparently giving her a lecture on the history of aviation. "What else did he tell you?" Mulder stopped in the middle of a sentence, staring at her blankly for a moment before her words registered. "You mean Deep Throat." It was a sentence, not a question. "I assume he told you more than what you've told me," she said. "Not much. Nothing important." But he dropped his gaze and she knew he was lying. She lowered her voice to a whisper, but spoke forcefully. "Mulder, that drug was in *me*, it may have affected *me*. So if you know something about it, and you're not telling me..." She let her voice trail off threateningly. He nodded, but still would not look at her. "They created it in time for the Gulf War, and they used it in prisoners of war, for interrogation purposes." That made sense. Her memories of that night at Retreat when she'd been drugged were vague. She could remember walking up stairs, following some man as if this was something she did every day. She remembered running through woods, blindly following Mulder, not thinking to ask why they were doing it. "But the war didn't give them much chance to study the effects of the drug, so they tested it on innocent civilians." Mulder paused, then raised his head and looked squarely at her. His eyes were dark with something she couldn't read, and she began to worry. "Most of the people showed no effects from the drug," Mulder continued. "But some people began to experience a form of psychosis. They became extremely paranoid, believing everybody was out to get them. They became aggressive, irrational, and showed tendencies toward violence. The government eventually intervened and took control again." He stopped abruptly. "But what?" she asked, her mouth suddenly dry with fear. "But not before two of the subjects had committed murder, induced by their extreme paranoia. One man shot his mailman, believing the man was looking through his mail. All he was doing was delivering it." "What happened to the others?" "They were institutionalized for paranoid schizophrenia. Probably still are." He took her hand in his and held it tightly. "Scully, you have to remember that most of those people developed no side effects at all." He spoke quietly, urgently, and Scully looked up at him. She could see fear in his eyes now, and it touched her that he could be so afraid for her. "Mulder, I'm fine. I don't feel any different." For a moment she thought of the incident in the library, then dismissed it. She gently pulled her hand from his. "I'll be fine," she said. Mulder opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. He merely nodded. "Okay, Scully." The Camelot Inn Dayton, Ohio Jan. 29 10:13 a.m. Scully sighed quietly as she looked around the motel room. No matter where they went, Mulder had a knack for choosing the seediest motels. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn he was proud of this talent. Right now he was watching out the window of the motel room, waiting for their contact. Scully still could not believe the man was really Deep Throat, and she found herself growing unaccountably nervous as the time for their meeting grew closer. What if it was him? It would mean her memories of that night on the bridge were false, and if she couldn't trust her own memories, what could she trust? At the window Mulder suddenly tensed. "He's here, Scully." He moved to the door and opened it. Scully's view of the man was blocked by Mulder for a moment, then he moved away, and she gasped. It was Deep Throat. She had held him, had watched him die, yet here he was. Alive in her cheap motel room in Dayton, Ohio. She thought maybe this was the most extreme possibility of all . Deep Throat nodded at her. "Scully. It's good to see you again. We met under some rather inauspicious circumstances." Oh, yes. She remembered. She could only return his nod, unsure of what to say. Deep Throat turned to Mulder. "I've arranged for us to enter the base this afternoon. We won't have much time, I'm afraid." Mulder grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way," he said. Deep Throat looked at her now. "I have a uniform for you in the car, Scully. It should give you the cover you need. Just get in and get out, leave the rest to Mulder and me." They had obviously planned this out already; she had no idea what the man was talking about, so she just nodded again. "We'll meet back here by 4:00," Deep Throat continued. He gave both of them a stern look. "Should anything go wrong, your first priority is getting out. These people will not take kindly to anyone stealing from them." He paused to make sure they understood how serious he was, then added, "I'll be back at 2:45. I'd get some sleep before then." Wright Patterson AFB 3:52 p.m. Getting onto the base proved ridiculously easy. The passes Deep Throat had somehow managed to get gave them necessary access onto the base. Once they were there it was a matter of finding where the drug was kept. From the gate they turned right, headed toward a building vaguely shaped like the letter H. Two wings jutted off the middle section, and Deep Throat informed them that this particular building extended nine stories underground. The passes got them into the building, and Deep Throat used a security code to enter the elevator taking them to the lower levels. After they stepped off the elevator he took Scully's arm. He pointed off down a long hallway. "At the end of the hall," he said, "you'll find the lab. The vial will be in a freezer marked B178. Just take it and leave. Act natural and make your way off the base. Mulder and I will provide a diversion for you." Scully swallowed hard and nodded. Then she forced a smile at Mulder. "Is this what you meant when you said I could get the next mutant?" He smiled back. "No, actually you did that a long time ago. I just wanted to see you in a military uniform." She glared at him, but couldn't help looking down at herself. The olive-green adjutant's uniform fit snugly, and looked crisp and sharp. She'd pulled her hair up into a bun and put it under the cap she wore, hoping no stray strands would fall down and earn her a dressing-down from some passing colonel. Wearing the uniform made her feel a strange kinship with her dead father, and she automatically carried herself prouder and straighter than usual. "You'll do just fine," Deep Throat said. "We'll meet you back at the hotel." They turned and got back into the elevator. Scully squared her shoulders and headed down the hallway. Mulder followed Deep Throat through the maze of hallways. Clearly the other man knew where he was going, and he was content to follow. Being on a military base again was not high on his list of fun things to do, but he swallowed his misgivings and continued to follow Deep Throat. The older man stopped at a door in the hall, and looked around. No one was watching; in fact they had seen no one since entering the building, Mulder realized. He thought they were five stories below ground now, but he'd never had a very good sense of direction, so he gave up trying to figure it out. "In here," Deep Throat said. Cautiously he used his pass-card to open the door, and they found themselves in a small room that looked like a storage room. Mulder looked around, wondering what they were doing here, as Deep Throat crossed the room. He opened a door on the opposite wall, motioned for Mulder to come forward, and disappeared through the doorway. Instantly an alarm sounded, piercing and strident. Mulder went through the door and found himself in a smaller room, holding only a computer. A door was set in the far wall, and a video camera was attached to the wall in the upper corner, monitoring them. "Did we set that off?" he asked softly. Deep Throat nodded. "Access to this room is supposed to come only from that door," he gestured to the other one, "and then only with another person who has the pass-card." Not that it mattered. This was the diversion, giving Scully enough time to get the precious vial and run. There was a dull crashing noise outside the room. Somewhere out in the hall a door slammed. Voices sounded, then running footsteps. Mulder looked over at Deep Throat. The other man seemed unperturbed to be the object of a base-wide manhunt. Not that it would matter if they were caught. Surely by now Scully had the vial, and in her stolen uniform and her hair pulled back tightly she was as nondescript as the next Air Force adjutant. The door burst open suddenly and a dozen men streamed in carrying rifles. Mulder put his hands in the air and let them surround him. Hands reached out and took his gun. Deep Throat stood a few feet away, nearly hidden by the circle of men around him. A tall figure walked into the room, a colonel, by his insignia. The soldiers all straightened their postures and wiped any human expressions off their faces. Mulder would not have been surprised if they had saluted in unison and cried "Sieg Heil!" The colonel strode forward. He eyed Mulder, then turned to look at Deep Throat. No emotion registered on his face, but his eyes gave him away. This man knew Deep Throat, knew who he really was. "Where is the vial?" he asked coldly. Deep Throat said nothing, only returned the man's stare. "Where is the vial?" he repeated. "We don't have it," Mulder said. Deep Throat turned to him, but he ignored the warning on the other man's face. "And you don't know where it is, do you? Looks like somebody else got to it first. We're just the decoys." He smirked at the colonel. The officer's eyes narrowed in anger. His cold stare raked over Mulder, then he raised his gaze and nodded slightly. He caught the movement in the corner of his eye and ducked, but not fast enough to avoid a rifle stock slamming into the back of his skull. He fell to the floor, stunned but conscious. Through dazed eyes, Mulder saw the colonel step forward and the circle of men around Deep Throat retreated to a safe distance. "I'm going to ask again. Where is that vial?" Deep Throat shook his head. "I don't have it." The colonel's eyes narrowed. "You should have stayed dead. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into." He gestured toward the door. "Get him out of here." The soldiers rushed in, surrounding Deep Throat, and quickly hustled him out of the room. "You'd better put him out." The second soldier reached into a bag and pulled out a small bottle and a syringe. Mulder stared at the needle, terrified. He jerked at the restraints holding him, struggling to get free. "No, don't do this!" he pleaded. And like the time before there was nothing he could do about it. The soldier stared at him impassively, then he felt the sting of the needle and the blackness swallowed him again. "No!" The cry burst from his lips and Mulder managed to get to his hands and knees. The colonel glanced at him contemptuously, then turned on his heel and left. Mulder swayed and tried to stand, and somebody kicked him in the ribs and he fell again. He looked up and saw the rifle swinging in slow motion, then pain exploded in his head and the world went black. 4:02 p.m. Scully did not allow herself to breathe until she was off the base and back on Wright Brothers Parkway. Despite her disguise, she had not expected to get off the base so easily. Yet no one had stopped her, no one had questioned her. Apparently Mulder and Deep Throat had done as promised, and provided enough of a diversion to allow her enough time to leave. She forced herself to slow down, and drive at a normal pace. After the past few hours, it would be ironic to get pulled over for a speeding ticket. So then. They had the vial--the last remaining pure extract of the alien RNA. Undoubtedly some forms of the drug would exist in circulation for a while; Charlie Courteney probably hadn't been Krycek's only customer. But without the original raw material there would be no more of it manufactured. Scully shifted in her seat and felt the cool glass of the vial against her skin. She had the same uncomfortable, queasy feeling she'd had while holding the Purity Control flask, so long ago. Being so close to something obviously extraterrestrial was disconcerting, to say the least. She pulled into the motel parking lot and looked carefully at the cars. There were a few new ones parked, ones that had arrived while she was at the base, but none looked like something the government would drive. She let herself into the motel room and immediately locked the door behind her. She moved to the windows and pulled the drapes shut, then went into the bathroom and locked herself in. Her eyes swept restlessly around the room before meeting her reflection in the mirror. Scully had to smile at herself. Mulder's paranoia had definitely rubbed off on her. Quickly she unbuttoned the uniform blouse and reached inside her bra. With trembling hands she pulled out the small vial. She turned it slowly in her hand, almost mesmerized by the deep blue color. She couldn't wait to get this to the FBI lab and analyze it. But first, she had to wait for Mulder and Deep Throat to come back. Time Unknown Location Unknown It was the rocking motion that woke him. A slight back and forth motion, accompanied by a low, droning noise. He opened his eyes and knew instantly he was in the back of a truck. Two soldiers sat on either side of him. They hadn't yet noticed he was awake. Mulder focused on the man who held his gun the slackest and tried to ignore the pain in his head. He lunged forward, reaching for the gun, and to his astonishment found that he could not move. He was strapped down. Strapped down and in the back of a truck. Panic flooded him as vague memories of another Air Force Base assaulted him. Memories of another ride in a truck, a ride that had turned into a nightmare. "Looks like he's awake," one of the soldiers said, nudging his companion. The Camelot Inn 4:48 p.m. Scully pulled out her cellular phone for the hundredth time, looked at it, at the clock, back at the phone, at the motel room door, and back at the clock. Abruptly she made a decision. It was 4:48. If they were not back by 5:00, she was calling Mulder's cell phone. If he was still in hiding and the chirping noise gave him away, so be it. She was very worried by now. They should have been back an hour ago. Scully had gone to the copy room, made some copies for the benefit of anyone who might be watching her, and then left. Mulder and his informant had planned to generally cause havoc, anything to give her time to leave. she thought, exasperated. Yes, that was it. They had been caught sneaking around, and the military didn't particularly care for snoops. So they had been arrested and would eventually be released when it was determined that they didn't have the vial. Scully felt almost smugly satisfied to have thought of this scenario, and the worry eased slightly. Except that it didn't work. It *wouldn't* work. Deep Throat, whoever he was, had enough connections to avoid being detained. And as Mulder's partner and listed next of kin, she should have been notified if he had been arrested. So what had happened? Where were they? Scully reached for the vial again, the cause of her worry. The glass tube was only three inches long, but the contents of that three inches were priceless. A pure extract of RNA from alien viruses. The scientist in Scully longed to analyze the liquid, to break down and determine the genetic makeup of the contents. The skeptic in her asked if this wasn't just some newly created chemical compound, something no one had heard of it. And the believer in her was afraid. If this *was* a drug that was half-alien, then think of the ramifications! The breakthrough making this possible had occurred back in 1991. What other miracles had taken place since then? What else was out there among the unsuspecting public that had extraterrestrial ingredients? Scully's hand went to the back of her neck, fingering the scar where the implant had been. An implant made of alien materials and know-how. What else did the government have that was alien? What other methods did they have of controlling the populace? Scully shook her head, clearing her thoughts. These were questions that she wasn't sure she wanted to have answered. Perhaps they weren't even the *right* questions. Better that she put it out of her mind. The crunch of gravel beneath her window startled her, and her head snapped up. Hastily she tucked the vial back into her blouse and grabbed her gun. Dropping to a crouch, she ran over to the window. She used the barrel of her gun to slowly lift the drape, allowing her to peek outside. She could see nothing, and she let the drape fall back. She got to her feet and moved to the door. The peep hole was dirty, but she could see well enough to realize there was nobody outside the door, either. Maybe it just been her imagination, playing tricks on her when she was already jumpy. The crunching sound came again, and Scully peered out the peep hole again. There! A shadow crossed in front of the door, and then came to stand in front of it. Scully tried frantically to make out a face, but the glass was filthy. All she could tell was that the figure outside was a man. One hand strayed to her blouse, feeling for the vial, making sure it was safe. She was still standing indecisively when the man outside knocked on the door. She made a quick decision: better to scare an unsuspecting stranger than be caught unarmed by an enemy. She stood to one side of the door, and unlocked it. "It's open!" she called and brought both the gun and herself up to the "ready" position. Legs apart, knees locked, both hands on the gun, chin up, eyes open. The door opened slowly, and she knew who it was even before he walked into the room. The smell gave him away. A half-smoked Morley between his thumb and forefinger, the Cigarette Smoking Man walked into Scully's motel room. End Part (2/3) of Replay From rrusnak@Lconn.com Sat Apr 05 13:10:47 1997 Subject: NEW! Elixir II (3/3) Replay From: Rebecca Rusnak -------- Part 3 of Replay See disclaimers, etc. in Part 1 Time Unknown Location Unknown The light hurt his eyes, and he wished it would go away. His head hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in darkness and go back to sleep. But the light wouldn't let him. The light and the voices. "Can you hear me?" A man's voice, speaking near his ear. His eyes opened, and he cringed from the bright light shining in his face. "Can you tell me your name?" He strained to make out the face behind the voice, but the light was too bright. There were vague shapes that might be men, but could be anything. His eyes closed again, and the voice said, "Give him a few more minutes." When his senses began working he tried to figure out where he was. He was laying on a bed, it seemed. Something soft, anyway. There was a prickling sensation in his left arm, and with an effort he turned his head. An IV line snaked from his forearm to a point above him that he couldn't see for the light. Something was taped to his chest, irritating the hairs there and he wanted to itch but didn't dare raise his hand, knowing they would stop him if he tried. One of the shadowy figures leaned in close, gaining a face as it did. The man was middle-aged, with a brushy mustache. He spoke again, enunciating carefully. "Can you tell me your name?" Of course he could. "Fox William Mulder." "When were you born?" "October 13, 1961." He was vaguely pleased to be able to answer their questions right. "Do you know where you are?" He looked around slowly, painfully. His head felt like someone had cut it open, filled it with rocks, and sewn it back up. "No," he said. "Are you sure?" This was not the answer they had wanted, and he felt disappointed. Summoning his energy, he tried to cut through the bright light, to see something of the room he was in. There was nothing familiar here, and he sighed. "Yes." "Wait a minute." A different voice. "You're not asking it right. Let me." "Do you know what city you are in?" This was one he knew, and he was glad to answer. "Dayton, Ohio." "Where in Dayton?" "Wright Patterson Air Force Base." "Why did you come here?" For a moment, something flickered in his memory. , but thinking was so hard, it hurt too much. Still he hesitated, unsure if he should answer. "Agent Mulder, answer the question. Why did you come to Wright Patterson Air Force Base?" He gave up the struggle in his mind. It was so much easier just to tell them what they wanted. "I wanted to find the drug." "What drug?" This was the first voice again. "The drug they gave Scully." He couldn't believe they didn't know this. It was all so simple. "What is in that drug, Agent Mulder?" "I don't know." He paused, trying to remember. "It's part alien. Part alien RNA from a virus." "That's it," the second voice whispered. He stayed quiet, knowing they weren't talking to him. "Did you find this drug?" the first voice asked. It sounded tense, with barely concealed excitement. "Yes." Alarms again in his head. There was something here he shouldn't be telling. "Do you have it?" "No." Definite unease now, and his head hurt badly. He turned to look at the IV again. "I hate needles. Can you take this out please?" The shadowy figures withdrew, and were gone for a time. When they came back, one of them reached out for the IV. "Just one more question, Agent Mulder. Who has the drug?" That was an easy one, too. But--but, he shouldn't tell. If he did, something would happen, something...He tried desperately to collect his thoughts, and a jolt of pain shot through his head. He gasped, and tried, but it was so hard... "Agent Mulder, I can take this needle away, but first you have to tell me, who has the drug now?" The voice was low and soothing, and he did want that needle gone, and it was so hard to think, so hard. "Agent Scully. She has it now." He tried to see their faces, to see if they were happy with this answer. "Where is Agent Scully?" "I don't know. She was supposed to go to the hotel. The Camelot Inn." "You heard him. Go." The first voice spoke sharply, then the face leaned in, close to his ear again. Spoke soothingly. "You did very well, Agent Mulder. I'm going to take the needle away now, but first I want to give you a shot of something." Cold and wet, swabbing at his arm. "Please don't. I hate needles." The figures seemed not to hear him and he moaned softly as the needle stabbed him. A stinging sensation as the IV was pulled from his arm, and then retreating footsteps. A door closed, sounding miles away, and the light was suddenly gone. He went gratefully into the blackness. Camelot Inn 4:59 p.m. "What do you want from me? What are you doing here?" It was hard for Scully to control the powerful emotions this man aroused in her. Fear, suspicion, mistrust, resentment, but most of all, anger. For too long this man had thwarted them, and probably had laughed as he had done it. Scully resolved that this was one time he would not get in their way. Cancerman regarded her solemnly. He raised his cigarette to his lips and inhaled heavily, all the while watching her carefully with those dark eyes. "What do you want?" Scully cried. Twice before, Mulder had come within a hair of killing this man. Facing him now, Scully could suddenly understand how easy it would be to pull the trigger. "They're coming for you, Agent Scully." He drew on the cigarette again, watching her reaction. "What do you mean? Who's coming for me?" She was suddenly certain that this man knew what had happened to Mulder and Deep Throat; moreover, he would never tell her. "Surely you didn't think you could get away with stealing from the military?" His voice was soft, almost wondering. Scully hated that voice, the one that spoke so pleasantly, but whose words were laced with poison. "What do you know about Mulder? Where is he?" She deliberately refrained from mentioning Deep Throat. Of course this man knew about him, too, but there was no reason to bring that fact into the open. "Does it matter? They have him, and now they're coming for you." "I don't believe you," she spat. All lies, all tricks, this man was a magician with words. He could use them to make you do anything, make you believe anything. Scully was not falling for it. "You should." Dark eyes gleamed. Another deep inhale. "Mulder is the one who told them." Scully's eyes widened and she gasped at the fury that coursed through her veins. He dared to tell her this, and he seemed to enjoy telling her. Oh yes, she was definitely going to kill this man. "You're lying." But the scientist in her refused to let her discount any theories. It was possible that this man was right. "But if they have Mulder, and they made him tell them where I was, it's not his fault." Cancerman smiled, a slight twist of thin lips. She'd responded exactly as he had expected her to. If he had known how loyal she would turn out to be, he would never have chosen her to be assigned to the X-Files. But some things couldn't be undone, no matter how hard you tried. "Do you have the vial?" "No," Scully lied. "But I know where it is." She could see that he didn't believe her, but he seemed to accept her lie. she thought bitterly. "You should leave here, go somewhere else. South of the city, perhaps." He had finished his cigarette, but he continued to hold the filter between his thumb and forefinger. "Why? Why are you telling me this?" She was confused and wary. After all he had done to ruin their investigations, their attempts at finding the truth, she just could not believe he was offering her help. "That drug should never have been made. It should be destroyed, Agent Scully. I would suggest you *find* where you put it, and burn it." Cancerman spoke with unusual passion, and Scully's head reeled with the implications of his words. "Why? Why do you want it destroyed? You were the one who made it in the first place," she insisted. "Or is this simply more destroying evidence that could incriminate you?" "I never wanted it made," Cancerman replied. He paced the length of the room, tossed his used butt in the trash, and fished a new one out of the pack. He lit it as he headed back toward Scully and stopped in front of her. "I would suggest you leave now. Your time is running out." He began walking for the door. Scully let him go until he was in the doorway. Then she cocked her gun, the sound echoing loudly in the silence. "Wait!" Cancerman froze, then turned around. A dark eyebrow arched in her direction, and smoke wreathed his head. "If you're right, where is Mulder? What have they done to him? And how do you know?" She had a thousand more questions, but she had little hope of him answering the ones she had posed. "He'll be fine. But I would not let them know you plan to destroy the drug, or they will probably kill him." The words dropped like boulders into the stillness of the room. Scully hardly noticed as the man left, taking with him the reek of smoke. It *was* Purity Control all over again, she realized despairingly. *They* had Mulder, and they would not let him go until they had what they wanted, which just so happened to be something she possessed. And what of Deep Throat? Probably dead, for certain this time. There would be no help from him. Scully walked unsteadily over to the bed and sank down on its soft surface. How, oh how did her partner continually get into these situations? Why did she always feel she was running after him, picking up the pieces and cleaning up the messes? And just how the hell was she supposed to save him this time? A car engine turned over out in the parking lot, and she suddenly realized that if Cancerman was right, then she was wasting valuable time just sitting here. She jumped off the bed and grabbed the overnight bag she had not even unpacked and her purse, and in five minutes she was walking quickly across the parking lot, luggage in hand. As she opened the trunk she scanned the street, suspicious of everyone who even glanced her way. Any one of them could be the point man for an ambush. Dayton Mall 7:15 p.m. There were two women in front of one of the department stores, each holding clipboards and waylaying any shopper they could get their hands on. Scully sat on the bench in the atrium, watching in amusement as wary shoppers walked out of their way to avoid the women. The trick seemed to be avoiding eye contact. Her amusement evaporated as she realized how ridiculously similar her position was. But instead of solicitors, she spent her time trying to avoid running into and being waylaid by the Consortium. And in her world lack of eye contact wouldn't save her. She'd been at the mall for almost an hour, long enough to remember why she hated these places. But when she'd left the hotel she'd been in a near-panic state, and had gotten onto the highway going south, unconsciously following Cancerman's instructions. At the time she hadn't cared where she went, just as long as she put some distance between herself and the Camelot Inn. When she'd seen the exit surrounded by acres of retail, she'd gotten off the highway, thinking that the abundance of people and cars in the area would make her hard to find. She had parked the car at a nearby gas station and walked over to the mall, at considerable danger to life and limb. The way people drove here! "Excuse me, ma'am." A voice suddenly intruded on her thoughts and she started. A young woman stood in front of her, laden with shopping bags. She looked frazzled, and in a hurry. "Could you tell me what time it is?" Scully looked at her watch. "7:20," she said. The woman thanked her and walked away. Scully's eyes followed her until she couldn't see the lady anymore. Probably she was being paranoid again, but after her unsettling visit from Cancerman she was extremely edgy. She got off the bench and headed down the mall in the opposite direction of the woman. Immediately she decided this had been a bad idea. While sitting in the middle of the mall had afforded her a good look at everyone passing by, walking around gave her a limited view. She had no idea if someone was following her, and it didn't help that there were plenty people following her--all of them ordinary shoppers. she commanded herself. She was beginning to sweat and gaze at everyone suspiciously. She had to get out of the flow of shoppers. She ducked into the first store that offered surcease from the noise and bustle, and breathed a sigh of relief. She took a moment to collect herself, then took a deep breath and turned around. She'd walked into a men's wear store, an obviously upscale one, judging by the racks of suits and ties she saw. She wandered further into the store, allowing herself to relax. There was only one other shopper here, an older man who was looking through winter coats. He couldn't possibly be a threat, and she breathed deep again. Already her flight through the mall was appearing quite ludicrous. "Can I help you find something?" Startled, she looked up to see a salesclerk standing next to her. She tensed, then relaxed as she got a good look at who had spoken to her. He was dark-haired and short and had one hell of a nose. He was wearing the seemingly requisite uniform at this store, a blue shirt, brown pants and a tie. An expensive pen poked out of his breast pocket. Not somebody to fear. "No, I'm just looking, thanks," she answered. "Our ties are on sale, if you need to pick one up for your husband," the clerk offered helpfully. He reached down and picked up a stray tie, folded it and put it back in the display. Hmm, Mulder did have a horrible fashion sense. Maybe this was her chance to set him straight. "Well, my partner could use a new tie or two," she said, smiling. "What colors does he prefer?" The clerk gestured toward a display two rows down. "We have these ties here, which are very popular in Europe." Scully hid a grin. The ties were fluorescent greens and pinks, definitely *not* something the FBI would approve of. "No," she said, "I think something more subdued, more conservative." "Is he a businessman?" the clerk asked. "What kinds of suits would these be coordinating with?" Scully couldn't resist playing with the clerk. He looked as if he hadn't had a date in years. "Actually, he's in government work. Beyond that I can't tell you. It's classified." The clerk stared at her, then looked back at the other employees, who were gathered behind the cash registers. Clearly he was wishing he hadn't been the one to pick her out. But she had to give him credit, he kept on going. "Wellll, we have these over here, if you'd like." He gestured to a tray behind them. Scully was saved from answering by the chirp of her cell phone. The clerk looked surprised, then backed up. "Take your time," he said, then hurried back to the relative safety of the cash register. Scully turned her back on the racks of ties and hunched over so no one could overhear. "Scully." There was nothing but silence for a few seconds, then the sound of someone breathing. Her heart began to race. The last time she had been on the receiving end of such a call it had been her mother telling her that her father was dead. She gripped the phone tightly, and waited. More breathing, then, "Scully?" Oh, God. "Mulder? Where are you?" There was a muffled sound, a clunk, then another voice spoke. "We know you have the vial, Agent Scully. Bring it to us or your partner dies." A click and the connection was broken. It took a superhuman effort to stand straight, put the phone away without screaming in frustration. She pasted a bright smile on her face, turned around, and left the store. Out in the mall again, she hesitated, unsure of what to do. They had told her to bring them the vial, but what exactly did that mean? Back to the base or an arranged meet? She shook her head, trying to clear her thinking. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin defiantly, and strode through the mall toward the exit. She was halfway there when she was struck by a new realization: Cancerman had been right. He had warned her, and in doing so had saved her life. Time Unknown Location Unknown He was in a truck again. Mulder opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. Pain shot through his head and he bit his lip to keep from groaning. For a time he lay still, letting his senses bring him information about his surroundings. He could feel no restraints holding him, nothing that prevented his body from swaying slightly with the rocking motion of the truck. He heard a radio crackle, then a male voice, speaking quietly. He cautiously opened his eyes. Four blurry soldiers in fatigues sat beside him, eyeing him dispassionately. He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision and the four soldiers coalesced into two. He licked his lips and swallowed. "Water?" His voice was a hoarse croak. The soldiers didn't even blink. Mulder closed his eyes and tried to calm his churning stomach and pounding head. His thoughts raced. The last thing he clearly remembered was the Air Force colonel taking Deep Throat out of a room filled with soldiers. Oh, God. Deep Throat. Mulder felt a pang of despair, even while he told himself to be realistic. The odds were very good that Deep Throat was dead. Again. The truck jolted over a pothole and Mulder's stomach lurched. Sweat broke out on his brow and he rolled onto his hands and knees. The soldiers both leaned forward. "Stop," he rasped. "I'm gonna be sick." One of the soldiers beat a hand on the grille between the back and the front seat. "Pull over," he called. The truck slowed, then stopped. The soldier who had called out opened the back doors and hopped out onto the blacktop. Mulder crawled over to the doors and attempted to get out of the truck. His head spun sickly and he would have fallen to the pavement, but the soldier grabbed his elbow, steadying him. He had time to notice it was dark out, then he swayed and staggered over to the waist-high weeds on the side of the road. He fell to his knees and was violently ill, retching until there was nothing left. He knelt, head hanging, while the soldier paced restlessly beside him. A glimmer of an idea formed in his mind. He lowered his weight onto his hands and moaned loudly. Beside him, the pacing stopped and from the corner of his eye he saw two booted feet stop next to his hands. He moaned again. "Help me. I can't--" He raised his left hand blindly, seeking help. The soldier grasped his wrist and yanked. Mulder allowed himself to be pulled forwards and upwards. He curled his right hand into a fist and suddenly dug in with his feet, propelling himself forward. His fist caught the soldier squarely in the crotch and the man doubled over with a pained grunt. The action left his jaw exposed and Mulder straightened up quickly. The top of his head connected with the soldier's jaw, flipping him over onto his back. The man twitched once, then was still. He heard shouts behind him, just as the weeds disappeared Mulder stooped down, grabbed the man's pistol and took off. He ran bent over, trying to stay below the weeds. Away from the faint light provided by the truck's headlights, he would be hard to find, but he had no doubt that the soldiers had a light source in the truck, and his few seconds head start would soon evaporate. The weeds were beginning to thin out, and dark shapes loomed up ahead. Trees. Despite the darkness, he continued to run. At least in the woods he could hide; running through the field he was a sitting duck. and he plunged into the woods. Mulder slowed his pace, not wanting to run full tilt into a tree, stumbled over an exposed root and fell heavily to the ground. He lay stunned, his lungs burning, his head beating out a steady rhythm of pain that matched his racing heart. After a while the voices behind him faded, and he heard a metallic thunk. An engine roared and the truck pulled back onto the road. Mulder couldn't believe it. They'd let him get away. His throbbing head suddenly offered up another memory. Voices, coming to him out of the darkness. Something plastic being held in front of his mouth. His own voice. A gasp sounding in his ear, then they'd moved the phone, and someone else was speaking. Something about coming to them, and killing him. Suddenly he knew. They wanted the vial, and they were using him to get to Scully, to make her give it up. They must have been on the way to rendezvous with Scully. She would be planning to give up the vial for him, only when she got there she would be handing over the drug and receiving nothing. The soldiers had obviously decided not to waste their time looking for him. In the long run it didn't matter. He was no longer their problem, and they would still be getting what they wanted. Mulder got painfully to his feet and made his way back to the road. He squinted hard at his watch and decided it read 2:30. There seemed to be no traffic at this time of night and he started walking. Lights shone off in the distance and he headed in that direction. After a couple hundred feet he came to an intersection with a county road. The street sign told him he was on State Route 835. Which was Wright Brothers Parkway, eventually. All he had to do was follow this road until he came to the Camelot Inn. Until he could get to Scully. Friendly's Restaurant 1:50 a.m. The restaurant was getting ready to close, and she'd have to find a new hiding place soon. She had stayed at the mall until the shops had closed, then bought a movie ticket for a nameless film. She'd sat at the back of the darkened theater, her gun on her lap, her eyes trained on the doors at the back of the theater. When the movie had ended she had re-holstered her gun and left with the crowd, while the mall closed for good. She'd walked across the road to the gas station and retrieved the rental car, looking for an open restaurant, and eventually came here. An hour later, she was still here. Scully was not so naive as to think that hiding in a crowded place could save her, but she didn't know what else to do. "Here you are, ma'am." Her waitress brought her change, smiled hopefully for a big tip, and left. Scully pocketed the money, leaving a dollar on the table. She'd ordered an ice cream to blend in, and now her stomach was wishing she hadn't. She left the restaurant and got in the car. She sat for a moment, watching couples and families leave the building, then suddenly sat up straight as an ugly thought struck her. Hastily she pulled out the bills she'd gotten back from the waitress, a five and a one. She ripped off the sides, looking for the magnetized strip the Lone Gunmen had shown her so long ago. Satisfied that neither bill was being used to track her, she wadded up the remains, rolled down the window and tossed the ball out into the parking lot. After a moment's thought, she flung the coins out the window, too. Better safe than sorry. She was shaking with fright now, unable to stop herself. All night she had been waiting for the phone call, the one that would tell her where to meet them, where the exchange would take place. All night she had been checking her cell phone to make sure it still worked, unable to believe the continued silence, not understanding why they hadn't contacted her yet. Unless it was all a lie. Scully's eyes narrowed and she stopped trembling as anger swept through her. Of course. Cancerman had lied to her. That "black-lunged son-of-a-bitch" would never willingly tell her the truth. He had lied to her, tried to use her for his own purposes. *They* might have Mulder, but she had the vial. She had what they wanted, and they knew it. So who was in control here? She was. And it was about time they learned it. She turned the car on and pulled out onto the road. Cancerman had contacted her at the motel once before, when it became obvious she was not going to give in to their demands, he would try it again. Only this time she would be waiting for him. The Camelot Inn 4:37 a.m. She was behind the motel, waiting, waiting. Scully crouched behind the ice machine, one hand holding her SIG Sauer, the other braced against the side of the machine. The vibrations from the ice maker traveled up her arm, but they were not the reason she was trembling. *He* was coming. He had already come here once, supposedly to warn her, but now he was coming to kill her. He knew she had the vial. He wanted it destroyed. So much the better if he could destroy her, too. There! Footsteps--only one set, he must have come alone. Scully's mouth tightened into a thin line. So he thought she was such an easy target? Thought he could walk in and kill her, just like that? Probably he thought he'd have time to smoke a cigarette, too, before the police came. Well, she would not let him. Scully poked her head out from the ice machine as the footsteps came closer. A dark figure made its way through the parking lot. The man moved slowly, one arm using the back wall of the motel for guidance. She was surprised not to see a small orange glow from a cigarette, then angrily decided that he was undoubtedly waiting until she was dead to light up. In one swift movement she stepped out into the open. "Stop where you are! Put your hands up!" Her voice rang with triumph. The figure came to a halt. Arms were slowly raised. "Scully?" The voice was hoarse and raspy. she thought pitilessly. At least he knew who she was, knew who was going to kill him. "I have what you want. And you're not going to get it, you bastard!" Anger made her voice shake. The figure made a move forward. "I said freeze!" she yelled, and fired. The man was flung back against the wall of the motel, then slowly crumpled to the ground. Scully ran forward, her finger around the trigger, ready to fire again. One of the motel room doors suddenly swung open, spilling light out into the parking lot. Scully immediately spun to her right. The old man who had opened his door at the gunshot started in terror as he saw the same gun now pointed at him. "Get back in your room!" Scully cried. The man scuttled backwards into the room, leaving the door open. She looked back at the still form on the ground. There was a splotch of blood on the wall and she smiled tightly. The man lay on his side, and she lowered herself to one knee, grabbed his arm and prepared to turn him over. He groaned in pain and she tensed. He was still alive! She put her gun to his temple and nearly pulled the trigger, but stopped. No, she wanted him to know who was killing him, wanted him to know he was about to die. Yanking his arm hard, she rolled him over. The man flopped onto his back, and Scully found herself staring into a pair of hazel eyes. "Scully?" Mulder's voice was weak as he stared at her in fear and confusion. He tried to raise one hand and failed. She backed up, her heart suddenly pounding in terror. This wasn't Cancerman! What had she done? She shook her head, her lips moving soundlessly. Panic flooded her and she began trembling violently. Behind her another door opened and a voice called, "What's going on here?" Something in her snapped. Scully shoved the gun into her pocket and ran off into the night. Author's Note: The information about Wright Patterson Air Force Base is as factual as I can obtain. There is indeed a rumor about a building going nine stories underground, although what exactly is down there is anybody's guess. Stayed tuned for Elixir III Retrieval...